Sad news my dear readers.

I realised that I have lost my folder of personal rantings and what-nots. All my writings that spanned over a year, all gone. It not only includes those posted on my tomes, but those written for a certain someone as well. Those personal letters that I sent out.

I have no idea what happened. Perhaps I accidentally deleted it one day. Or perhaps not. But one thing for sure is that it's gone. Wiped out from the face of my C Drive.

Treausre those hard copies you have, that certain someone.

Those are the only ones left now...

Comprehendo?

Now, before you all get mistaken, which I am sure you did (yes you there), I am not missing nor hankering after the past at all. What's past is past. One just thought that things could have been handled better. Now, did I get that out of the way? Comprehendo?

Today, I'll steal a phrase from Melancholic Merriment, which rings loud and true in the echoes of my mind,

"Better by far you should forget and smile, than you should remember and be sad." -Christina Rosetti,

Agree? Yea?

Therein lies the problem. I cannot forget. Not now, perhaps not in this lifetime. After this, no one would deserve more of me. Unconditionally. This would perhaps be the first and the last time.

I shall remember forever. And be sad.

If I am not answered.

I only have but one lady in my heart.

Yours truly
Aristocrat

To Be

Suddenly, in the middle of the night, I realized why I was an insomniac. All along, whenever I lie down in my bed, my thoughts would tend to wander to the mystical farplanes of beyond. They would wander anywhere, do whatever they want to, all except sleep. Instead of falling asleep then, my mind would be the most active at that point in time. Perhaps that is why I love the night...

That point of time would almost be the time where I derive my most inspiration from. For the most pregnant material comes from such moments, where the "it suddenly dawns upon you," so as to use this cliche in its most appropriate way. Sometimes, I would be too lazy to haul the big ass of mine out of bed and to jot down whatever I was thinking. Sometimes I would be just too comfortable.

But today was not one of those days.

Today, I felt like jotting down whatever I was thinking, though it may not be much. Today, I felt like I had been enlightened, like I had passed a certain crossroad in my life. For a lot of events had came back to haunt me, things which I was sure I had buried along with my past. Those events which I care not to even remember.

But certain present events had caused me to reminisce. Is this the correct use of the verb? I have no idea. No matter.

Anyway, a long long time ago, I was told by someone that I was that someone's retribution for all the things done in the past. I didn't think the retribution would come to pass, but it did.

I did things that were incomprehensible to me. Actions which seemed right in the past, but now, in all its entirety, seemed unbecoming of a gentleman. Actions that I regret now.

Don't get me wrong, I do not regret what was the end result, but I just wished that I could have done better. I knew that things wouldn't work out anyway, but I just wished that I could have seen it better at that point of time. There were so many things that I wished, so many things that I regretted doing. Perhaps I was a hypocrite. Am I one? I can't judge. I no longer wish to judge people, for I am not that angelic. A sinner I am.

The past is one thing that I could have wished I had done better. But people can't live in the past. And here I am in the present, hoping for the future.

The present doesn't look too rosy either. There is simply no clear directions to anything at all and I am afraid I would have to wander around the wilderness for a while more longer. A while in whose perspective, I wonder? Surely not mine...

The present was a gift and perhaps my retribution as well. But with regards to it, I have to say that I have never regret anything at all. None whatsoever. However it turns out, I would accept it, though I wish for a positive response.

For I have already experienced the best things in life.

To be loved.

And to love.

I cannot ask for more.

Yours truly
Aristocrat

The world is a cruel place

The foolish lovers give their heart and soul
Keeping faith that theirs be a fairytale
How cruel the world is
To twist the dreams of fantasy
Into haunting nightmares

Through fate or circumstance
Or a straying touch
Sometimes a meaningless word
Or a misread heart
A pain inflicted of torment infinite
By a casual hand
Cruelest of actions
Carried out by a gentle lamb

A fair face hides the hand
Of darkest sorrow and deepest pain
Heaven forfend
Such indifferent acts
Such thoughtless pacts
Should break the hearts of mortal men
Of love, it dies
Of hope, it sleeps
Of faith, it abandons
A pronouncement of suffering

******************************

This was written by one of my compatriots. Doesn't it ring true? With every stroke of the brush, it paints such a surreal picture of pain and of being betrayed and let down. The feeling of utter hopelessness, the helplessness of the narrator screams out to the reader.

How such "thoughtless pacts" really "breaks the hearts of mortal men". Pacts made in solemnity, pacts broken just as easily. I know, this I surely know.

"Of love, it dies." Oh, surely, it more than dies. Dying once wouldn't even be the beginning of it.

"Of hope, it sleeps." Sleep it does, and it does more than sleeps. It curls up in a foetal position, once bitten twice shy and to protect itself, it fends off with a blanket of damned lies.

"Of faith it abandons." Abandoned, and for faith thrown out, Venus* it embraces with passion.

"A pronouncement of suffering." Indeed.

A death sentence for thee.

*******************************

(*Venus- for those readers in the dark, please check out the mythological meanings of Venus and what she stands for.)

War

And once more, as the bells toll in the distant towers, the heralded day has cometh unto them yet again. The day that they spent all summer preparing for it. To face the enemy once more in his own quarters. To give no quarter to him, not even yield an inch should they fail. Should they fail, there is but no choice to give their lives to the honourable cause, lest their fort should fall.The object that the enemy was seeking for must never fall into his hands, for if that happened, all that they stood for would be lost forever.

He was weary. Weary of waiting for it to come. For the great battle that must happen no matter what. He had almost got used to a civilian life, at every break of the day doing nothing but toiling the soil. Or practising arms with the rest of the men. Not that they were very eager to do so either. In the beginning, they practised everyday, waiting with fervour for the day to come. But as days turn into months and months into years, discipline rotted along with it. They had become a bunch of drunken, spineless good-for-nothings.

Now the time had come to prove their mettle again. And he was glad for that chance. For his battle-hardened senses screamed out to him, to join the bloodletting. He was not going to let this chance come to waste, though he might not be making his way back to this homely cove after all this had ended. Perhaps he would have a warrior's burial. Or if they lost, perhaps his head would be stuck on a pike. That was what those barbarians up north did. And now those barbarians were here.

With a smile, he put on his armour and strapped on his scabbard. In the meadows yonder, he could see columns marching towards the borders. And he could see familiar faces in them. Old Scott's son was there. Newly married. As well as the ironsmith's brood. He couldn't remember his name though. He was always bad with names.

No matter, he grimaced. When all this is over, there would be no need of names anymore. Either they would be remembered, or they would be forgotten in the tomes of history. That was the reality of the winning and losing.

Theirs not to decide their fate.
Theirs not to question the powers that be.
Theirs but to do or die.

My Dearest Autumn

Can you see? No one's feeding wood to the fire. Give it a few more hours and all you can see are glowing embers. Not bad though, those weak flames are casting enough shadows to make this whole place look eerie. Kinda gives it a nice feel, don't you think?

At this time of the night, I'm always in pain. My heart seems to be crying out as if some part was missing.

Mutilated in fact.

They call it "phantom pain". Phantom pain occurs when you feel the pain coming from a missing limb, as if that limb was still there. I sure feel the pain from that missing part, as if it was still there.

At this time of the night, I can't help but be bitter about everything. Or some things. Things which are beyond my control, though within my scope of understanding. Wouldn't it be nice to have things under control? One might as well go on to say wouldn't it be nice to this, wouldn't it be nice to have that? One can't always have what one asks for, that I know. But who, tell me who, could attain this level of enlightenment?

I can only sit here in my couch, beside the dying fire and dancing shadows, and, sip and swish my glass of bourbon coke. And wait for the return to ashes.

Here I come, Autumn. Wait for me.

Love, A Deceitful Affair

Love, cruel hast thou been
To lead thee on a false trail, up over yonder
These clouded peaks, enchanting beauty no less
Up and down through the treacherous marsh
Promising all of heaven, promising no more sadness
Attached to thee, a pair of wings
To aid thine's flight to the supposed utopia
Unknowingly to hasten thine's demise
For the swamps of Hopelessness
And the bogs of Despair lies just over the
Masquerade of clouded peaks, a pretty affair
And bounded for this destination was thee
Destined to burn in Hell

Questions and Answers

I was dressed in military fatigues. I looked around me, and it was as if I was in a military installation of sorts.

"What business would I have here?" I wondered. I don't even remember making my way here. It was puzzling.

"Stop right there!"

I looked to where the shouts originated from, and realised that there were soldiers chasing after me. Though I was clad in the same fatigues as them, the look of hostility on their faces did not hide their intentions on as to what they would do to me if I was caught. Probably a military interrogation. I could hear the barking of hounds over the distance, and decided that it was time to say goodbye to them. How I was going to do that, I had no idea. But I just ran and ran, with the sole purpose of putting as much distance between me and my pursuers.

Time seemed to have no meaning here for suddenly, I found myself in an airport. The only indication that it was an airport was all the touristy figures around carrying luggage. I stood out like a sore thumb in my fatigues.

"How did I make my way here?" I had no clue. There was a bigger plan that I do not know about. The powers that be perhaps. I started to run again. It was more and more like the movies that I had seen. A guy being pursued by all authorities possible. This was a hopeless situation. In the blink of an eye, I found myself cornered. With nowhere to run.

"This sucks," I thought. "Isn't there a better way to die?" And like a fairytale come true, I suddenly found myself in the comforts of my own bed, sweating profusely. Or maybe not. I can't recall that clearly. What I could remember was the smell of fear. My own fear.

It may sound like a cliched storybook ending, but I have had this dream for more than once. And this was what really happened. Sometimes twice in a row I believe. What was the significance behind it? What was I running from?

Questions and more questions with no answers in sight...

Reminscing

Now onto my first meme. My apologies to Tony for not completing your meme, but it was really out of theme. I'll return the compliments to you, no worries on that score.

Rules: Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump everyone up one place; add your blog's name in the fifth spot, link to each of the other's blogs.


1.The Babbling Brooke
2.Cannot Be Trusted
3.Every Passing Moment
4.Mistywalk
5.Whispers of A Blue Moon: Tomes OF Tears

Now what I am supposed to tell my dear readers are the top five things I missed about my childhood... For one, I can't even think of any. My childhood memories are perhaps a blur, a blur of pictures set in the past, best left forgotten. A locked chest left up in the attic, all but forgotten.

A problem that one faces when answering this meme is: when does a childhood start and when does it end? Does it start at the age of 5 and ends at the age of 12? What if one's childhood only starts at 12? Perhaps, what really defines childhood is the naviete of the person in question. The naviete and the innocence, of believing only in good and not evil. All children are innocent, don't you think so?

Forever believing and trusting in whatever the adults say. Forever believing and trusting in their childhood superheroes.

"When will they come to save the world?"

"Soon, my dear child. They'll come when you start being a good girl and go to bed on time."

"Alright mum."

So it would seem that different people might have different periods of childhood after all.

A period of naviete and innocence.

A period of carefree days.

A period where everything would always turn out well.

Alright, I see eyebrows turning up. When am I going to start, you say. Right about now?

1. I am going to get brickbats for this. But I miss the innocence of childhood. Yes, the beautiful innocence. No worries. No need to think about the future. No need to worry about so many things that needs worrying. Just lots of playing. Play, eat, sleep and play again. A happy-go-lucky mancub I was, but then again, who wasn't?

2. My street soccer sessions. I play as the goalkeep and usually it would be after my school ends. In our pristine white uniforms, we would play with our hearts out, laughing and making jibes at one another. And in the end, the white would end up grey with dirt, with holes at the knees of our pants. And going home would mean getting a earful again. Weekly earful every Friday...

3. Playing Lego with my siblings. That was the ultimate playtime for me, a theraeuptic session of Lego with my brother. A session of imagination again, of active visualization. I would always imagined I was a particular figure in the scene. A soldier defending a castle against pirate invasion. A policeman in a police station solving a crime. An astronaut fighting against the bad guys. Perhaps that was where I derive my active imagination for. No wonder I have such a soft spot for imagery.

4. Something that's always in my mind would be the first and only celebration of my birthday with all my relatives. I have a total of 40 over relatives, so it was quite a big celebration. Complete with games and dress-up. I remembered I was dressed in some newspapers for a costume competition. Wondered who made the effort to plan all those things back then when I was just a little kid. That's the only celebration of my birthday.

5. Now I can't think of anymore, can you let me off Mystique? This meme is already taking off some of the mystery of my tomes haha...

Alright alright, one last one. My primary school friends. I wonder where they all are now. Are they well? I lost contact with every single one of them. Those happy and carefree days we had, running around the whole school, playing all the stupid games. The girls making fun of the guys and the guys making fun of the girls. Helluva fun.

Finally, I am done. And now for the most fun part: passing this meme to five people. Tony, I promise you, didn't I? You are the top on my list :)

1.Nonchalant Theory
2.A Glimpse of Humanity
3.Exigency
4.Look What Look
5.War Against Sexy Space Sluts

And then, I felt like adding one more...

6.Lim Buey Tor

One looks forward to reading your memes...

Yours truly
Aristocrat